I Was A Teenage Alien!
by Xanderlike
Summary: It all started the morning I woke up green ...
1. Chapter 1

It all started the morning I woke up green.

Waking up has never been my favorite thing to do-- which is pretty typical, I guess, for your average American teenager. That was how I always thought of myself-- Peter (Pete to my friends) Morgan, average guy extraordinaire. Not too bright, not too dumb, not an athlete but not about to trip over my own feet either. You know, I was _normal._

Or so I thought.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me backtrack a second.

"Pete! Breakfast! Time to wake up!"

That was my mother shouting at me. I swear, the woman has lungs like a bullhorn. It didn't matter where she was-- she could always make herself heard.

"Uh, five more minutes, Mom," I told her as I rolled over.

"Now, Pete."

I sighed. That was Mom's "She Who Must Be Obeyed" voice. Even Dad knew better than to argue when she used that voice.

So I got of bed and ruffled my hair-- only to find that I had no hair.

"Huh? Bare skin? No, no-- I'm only 17! I'm too young to be going bald!"

I ran into the bathroom and looked at myself.

"Holy cow!"

I was green. Emerald green. With ears that Mr. Spock would envy. Red eyes-- and no hair!

I stared at myself in shock and rubbed my eyes fiercely. I opened one eye.

I was still green.

"Oh, man-- I can't be a mutant! I'm too young to wear a trench coat and get shot at by giant robots! Please, no. Let this be a dream."

I closed my eyes and rubbed them again. I opened them again-- and I was still green.

"Oh, heck."

"Pete, get down here right now!"

"Uh, Mom . . . I don't feel good."

"What do you mean you don't feel good? You're never sick!" Mom came running up the stairs. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"No, not exactly. Look, Mom. Can't I just stay up here a little while longer?"

"Peter Morgan, open this door right now."

"Mom--"

"Do I have to call your father right now?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Troy! Get your butt upstairs! Your son won't come out of the bathroom!"

"Helen, he's at that age right now-- It's perfectly normal--!"

"Troy, now!"

I heard heavier steps on the stairs. "Pete, son. You had better let me in."

"Dad-- "

"Open the door, Pete."

"Can't I just stay in the bathroom the rest of my life, Dad? You and Mom can slip pizza under the door--"

"Pete. Door. Open. Now."

That was Dad's "I'm At the End of My Rope" voice. It was even more frightening than Mom's-- maybe because he so seldom got hacked off. Dad wasn't a big guy-- far from it-- but when he was mad he sounded like he was ten feet tall.

There was no help for it.

I swung the door open. "Look, I don't know how it happened but I think I'm a mutant--"

Mom and Dad gaped at my green face for a moment. Then they smiled. Mom gently reached out and touched my cheek.

"Oh, honey," she said. "You're not a mutant."

Dad nodded. "You're an alien."

"Alien--?" I sputtered.

"Alien," Mom affirmed, nodding her head.

"Like us," Dad said.

And they were both green too.

I did the only thing I could then:

I fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

"Eat your breakfast, Pete."

I stared at the green skinned alien who was wearing my mother's favorite blouse. "I'm an alien," I said.

"Yes I know, dear," Mom said. "So am I. So's your father. We told you, remember?"

"I'm an alien," I muttered again, looking at my reflection in the toaster again. There were four rows of vertical ridges from my lower lip to the bottom of my chin. It looked like Ant-Man was trying to grow crops on my face. "I can't believe I'm an alien. How can I be an alien?"

"Having parents from another planet helps," Dad said dryly. He was green too-- but a different shade than I was. I was a light emerald. He was a dark grass green. Mom was darker than either of us-- jade green. Mom was the only one with hair-- it was a very light shade of green.

"You're not helping, Dad. How could you not tell me we were from another planet?"

"That's a long story," Mom told me. "You've got to finish your breakfast. You're going to be late for school."

"School? Mom, I look like something from a bad science fiction movie. I can't go to school looking like this!"

"Then change."

"How?"

"How did you change this morning?"

"I don't know. I just woke up this morning looking like this." I shrugged. "Hey, maybe I'm dreaming! That's it! It's all some kind of weird dream!"

Mom slapped me.

I looked at her in surprise. She had never hit me before-- not once. Of course, she'd never needed to. A look from her was worse than a punch from the Incredible Hulk.

"You hit me!"

"Yes I did! And you felt it! This is not a dream, Peter Morgan! This is your reality! And as you are my son you _will_face it as a true heir to the house of Mor'Gan."

"Better listen to her, Pete," Dad said, drinking his coffee. "Next time she'll draw blood."

Mom glared at Dad. "You aren't helping."

"We should have told him a long time ago."

"You know why we couldn't."

"You were wrong, Beth. I listened to you like I always do, but the fact remains you were wrong. Pete, son, I promise I'll tell you everything when you get home from school. Right now, I've got to get to work-- I've got a killer presentation I have to give."

"Uh, Dad?"

"Do you really think that your pitch will work when you look like Kermit the Frog's big brother?"

"Oh." Dad shrugged-- and he was himself again. No, wait-- not himself. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I had ever seen my father's true face . . . or my own.

He smiled at me and then walked out of the kitchen.

Mom looked at me. She looked more upset than I had ever seen her. "Peter."

"Yes, Mom?"

"You can control your appearance. If you want to look like-- yourself, you can do it."

"I don't know _how!_"

"You do know how. It's buried deep inside you, but it's part of who you are. Maybe your father was right. Maybe I should have told you the truth earlier. But-- I couldn't. I was afraid."

"Afraid?" The words "mom" and "afraid" just didn't go together for me. Mom wasn't afraid of anything!

"We'll explain later, Peter. In the meantime, I'll help you." She took my hand. "All you have to do is . . . this."

She squeezed my hand.

And it turned pink.

I raised my hand up to my face. No ridges. No pointy ears. And hair-- I had hair again!

"Thanks, Mom." I looked at her.

She was human again too. "Now you had better get to school. You're going to be late."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"What if it happens again? What do I do?"

"You are a Skrull, Peter. Changing your form should be as easy as breathing. Change yourself back-- don't think about it. Just do it."

"It's not that easy."

"It is, Peter." Mom sighed. "You've been fighting what you are since before you were born, but you are a Skrull. You will always be a Skrull."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at my mother's words. I looked at my reflection once more on the side of the toaster. I looked like I always had-- before this morning.

But it was a lie. It had always been a lie.

I picked up my books and headed out the door. "Dad, I sure hope you do better explaining this than you did with the birds and the bees . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

"Pete, you're looking a little blue," Vic Clayton said to me as we sat down in our first class of the day.

"I am not green!" I hissed at him. Then I realized what he said. "Blue? Oh, I'm just a little depressed today."

"Why? Can't be class. Since when has Mr. 'I look at a page once and memorize it' Morgan ever worried about school?"

I shrugged. "Stuff."

"That's certainly a verbose description," Daphne McCoy said wryly. She was pretty; in a not-a-twig sort of way. She was smart-- and delighted in using big words. As a matter of fact, that's what I called her-- "Big Words" or "B.W." for short. I tend to give people I really like nicknames.

I'm kind of annoying that way.

Vic shrugged. "You know how Pete is, B.W. Talkative to a fault."

I sighed. Mom and Dad hadn't told me that I had to keep our true identities secret, but that went without saying. They hadn't even told me; it didn't take a Reed Richards to realize that telling anyone-- even my closest friends-- would have been a Bad Idea. I'm not _stupid. _I didn't like keeping secrets from Vic and B.W. I didn't like it all.

But I did it.

"Oh, don't mind me, guys. I'll be fine, later. Anyone new this year, Vic?"

Vic's brown eyes seemed to sparkle. "Oh, yeah, man. You could say that. I'm not going to say anything, though. You gotta see this girl to believe her."

B.W. rolled her eyes. "It will give me great pleasure when you finally emerge from your chrysalis of adolescent behavior and leave such infantile displays behind, Vic."

Vic looked at me. "What'd she say?"

"She wants you to grow up," I translated. It was kind of sad, really. B.W. had had a crush on Vic for as long as I could remember. Vic was just too stupid to see it-- or appreciate her.

Vic shrugged. He does that a lot. "Well, take a gander at Ms. Roni Crandall and tell me if she isn't worthy of being called 'hot,' Pete."

And he pointed at the girl as she walked through the front door.

My first thought was, "Oh, Momma."

My second thought was a good deal less coherent than that.

My third was something I can't talk about in public.

She was tall. Really tall. Maybe even six foot six . . . on her, though, it looked very good. Her hair was the color of molten gold. Her skin was darker, almost bronze. She had the kind of face you normally see on statues of Greek Goddesses. Her lips were full and pouting. Her eyes were gun-metal blue.

She was talking to one of the popular girls as she walked into the class. Naturally, she didn't pay any attention to the rest of us-- her kind never does.

But as she was walking past my desk, she gasped suddenly and almost fell. She caught herself on my desk and looked straight into my eyes.

That beautiful face became a good deal less so as it contorted into a mask of rage. Her blue eyes narrowed. "Skrull!" she hissed.

I just about wet my pants.


	4. Chapter 4

Roni Crandall refused to go to the nurse when Mr. Norris suggested it. She told him that she had just slipped-- and was intimidating enough to get away with it. She sat down as far from me as she could get.

"What was that all about?" Vic asked me.

I shrugged. "Haven't a clue."

"That word she uttered," B.W. murmured. "Skrull . . . I believe that I've heard it before. If I could just recall the particular circumstances I'm sure it'd be most enlightening."

"Are you sure she said Skrull?" I asked B.W. "I thought she said 'skull.' It looked like she had a colossal headache or something."

"No. I'm positive she uttered 'Skrull', Peter." B.W. frowned at me. "Now all I have to do is see if I can find out where I've heard that word before . . ."

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out later, B.W.," I said hurriedly opening up my textbook. "We'd better be quiet now. Looks like Mr. Norris is ready to start."

I had two other classes with Roni Crandall after history; English and Algebra. In each class she sat as far away from me as she could-- and scowled every time she saw me looking at her. Somehow I didn't think she was ready to sign up for the "Pete Morgan" fan club just yet . . .

Who was she? How had she known I was a Skrull? Was she an alien herself?

Good questions, but I had no answers. And I wasn't about to ask Ms. "I'd as soon gut you as talk to you" for those answers . . .

Fortunately, I didn't need to go directly to the source to get the scoop. Not when I had alternative sources of information . . . like Vic.

Unfortunately, after History Vic and I didn't have another class together. I had to wait until lunch to drill him.

"Vic."

"Pete."

"Tell me about Roni Crandall, Vic."

Vic looked at me. "Do I look like a clearing house of information, Pete?"

I handed him my pizza. I loved pizza, but I needed information more. "C'mon. Be a pal."

Vic swallowed my pizza in two bites. For a guy who was built like a stick, he had a metabolism that made a killer shrew look lethargic. "She transferred in right before classes started today." It was the first day of school. "She grew up overseas. Her Dad was some kind of military man."

"Was?"

"I heard her talking to a counselor. Dad is either out of the picture or deceased. Her mother works for Roxxon."

"Hmm. You know, she does have that strange accent-- must come from growing up outside the country."

"I know she's cute in a Valkyrie-like way, Pete, but I'd stay away from her if I were you."

"Why do you say that, Vic?"

"C'mon, man. You saw the way she's been looking at you. I've seen friendlier rabid dogs."

"I know. Thanks for the information, Vic." I decided to compensate myself for the pizza I'd given Vic by taking his broccoli. I _love_broccoli. It's _so_ tasty. (Hmm. Come to think of it, maybe I should realized I was an alien a long time ago . . .)

After lunch, I decided to head to the bathroom. In addition to the usual activities, I wanted to make sure that I still wasn't turning green again. Not knowing how it had happened the first time I couldn't be sure it wouldn't happen again, and it was making me more than a little edgy.

I walked into the bathroom, glanced into the mirror--

-- Roni Crandall was standing behind me.

Before I could so much as begin to turn around, she grabbed me and shoved me into a stall.

She spun me around so I could face her.

She snarled something at me in a language that I had never heard before. I didn't understand it, naturally, but it was obviously not a declaration of eternal love.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand," I told her, surprised at the calmness of my own voice. A small voice was whispering in the back of my mind that she could very easily kill me if I wasn't careful.

She paused and said something again-- this time in an entirely different language. It was _almost _familiar to me, but I still didn't understand a word.

"Sorry. Try again?" All I could do was shrug.

"Very well, Skrull," Crandall snarled, and though her words were understandable, her accent was even heavier than usual. "If you insist on it, I will use this tongue of the apes to talk to you."

"Hey, some of my best friends are humans!" I snapped. "And don't you know that girls don't belong here-- assuming you are a girl, that is. I'm guessing that you're not exactly a native, either."

"Skrulls have no friends!" Crandall retorted. "I know what you are, Skrull. I know not what you do in this place, but you shall not hinder me. I will redeem my honor. I will prove myself worthy of my father-- and if I must walk over your corpse to do so, I will."

"I don't know who you are or what you are, 'Roni,' and quite frankly I don't care that much. Don't threaten me. I don't like being threatened. I'll do whatever it takes to protect myself-- or my friends."

She glared at me.

I glared back at her.

Someone walked into the bathroom.

"This isn't over, Morgan," Crandall told me as she shoved the door open so hard that it flew off its hinges. She stalked past a flabbergasted Vic Clayton and left the bathroom.

Vic shrugged. "You have the strangest taste in women, Pete . . ."


	5. Chapter 5

Vic and B.W. were disappointed that I didn't join them for our usual "back to school pizza fest" but I really had to talk to Dad. Somehow I didn't think Roni Crandall had come to town to partake of our excellent educational facilities. It wasn't hard to see she was from out of town-- _way _out of town-- and that whatever she was here for, it wouldn't be good to let her have it.

Mom wasn't home when I got there. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking pink lemonade. He was green again.

"Hi, Dad."

"Son." His voice was a bit slurred. Lemonade always did that to him. Now I knew why.

"Last time you drank that much was when you started talking to me about the birds and bees, Dad."

Dad chuckled. "In some ways, that was easier. We've got a lot to talk about, Pete." He was himself again. At least, the self I had always known. "Go change clothes, son. Your mother has it laid out. Be like this"-- he was a Skrull again- "when you put it on."

"How?"

"You can do it, Pete. Just let it happen." He was human again. "It's who you are."

"I didn't try to argue with him. If I were going to learn what I truly was and why my parents had never told me the truth, I would have to do what Dad asked. That wasn't really too hard; Dad and I had always gotten along pretty well.

I got up and went to my room. "Oh man, Dad. You have gotten to be kidding."

The shirt and trousers were midnight blue. The gloves, boots, and belt were a dark purple. The shirt had a built in hood. The material had a slight sheen to it-- as though it consisted of very fine scales.

It was warm to the touch-- almost frighteningly so.

I glanced at myself in the mirror. "Okay. Time for those green genes to work."

I tried to remember what it had felt like when Mom had turned me back to what I had always thought of as "normal." I shut my eyes and tried to recapture that feeling.

"You've been fighting what you are since before you were born," Mom had told me. I didn't know all that meant-- yet-- but I knew one thing:

I wasn't human. I would never be human. I was . . . something else.

And it was time that I found out what that was.

I opened my eyes.

I was a Skrull again. Well, I had always been a Skrull-- now I just looked like it.

I took my clothes off. (Well, I was completely hairless, but at least there were no missing-- or added-- parts.) With a certain amount of reluctance-- the stuff felt really weird-- I put on the clothes that Mom had left for me.

At first they were too big-- I felt like a kid trying to wear his dad's clothes. But the moment I put on the hood-- it was really more a kind of attached skullcap than hood-- the cloth seemed to shrink down until it fit me like a second skin.

It felt odd. Spandex had never really been my idea of style, and this stuff seemed even worse.

But strangely, it also felt . . . right.

"Are you ready, Pete?" Dad asked me from the kitchen.

"Well, let's just find that out," I said, more to myself than Dad as I walked down the stairs.

Dad nodded, as he looked me over. "You wear the _chrisat _well, Pete."

"_Chrisat?_"

"Your new outfit. They like you-- I can tell you."

"Um, they?"

Dad nodded again. "The_chrisat _are colony creatures-- not quite plant or animal, but with the aspects of both. Kind of like Earth coral, actually . . ."

"You mean these clothes are . . . alive?!"

"Well, yes. Dead they wouldn't be of much use to you."

I shivered. "That's just weird, Dad--"

"But necessary, son." Dad shifted back into Skrull form-- and this time his clothes changed with him. The outfit was similar to mine, but not identical; his boots, belt, and gloves were a bit lighter purple. "The _chrisat_have many uses-- they can alter their shape and appearance in response to our thoughts, uniforms created from them are very durable, and they facilitate communication between Skrulls in their transformed states."

"What do you mean, 'transformed states'?"

Dad chuckled suddenly. "Oh. I forgot. You don't understand." He became human again. "We're not limited to shifting between human and Skrull. Skrulls can become almost anything-- within certain limitations."

Suddenly, a scorpion stood where Dad had been-- a gigantic scorpion the size of a man. "Insect."

The scorpion turned into a saber tooth tiger. "Mammal."

The tiger turned into an alligator. "Reptile."

The alligator turned into a pine tree, complete with a wooden pot. "Even a plant."

The pine tree became my Dad again. My human father.

"How--?" I asked him. "How can we do that?"

Dad considered. "You've heard of unstable molecules, haven't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Reed Richards discovered them. Clothing made of unstable molecules allows super humans to do their thing without being arrested for public nudity. The Human Torch's uniform doesn't burn up; Invisible Woman's uniform fades from sight with her, and Mr. Fantastic's outfit stretches with his limbs . . ."

"Exactly. Skrulls have a molecular structure very similar to Richards' discovery. Through mental effort, we can change shape-- and to a limited extent, mass and size as well."

"And the suit-- the_chrisat _enabled me to understand what you said in those other forms?"

"Not exactly. Skrulls of the same tribe-- those who are genetically related-- can understand each other no matter what shapes we are in. I wasn't actually speaking; it was telepathy. The _chrisat _allow non-related Skrulls to communicate telepathically."

"Um . . . you mean Mom can read my mind?"

Dad chuckled. "Not exactly. It's communication-- that's all. You can be a stone and talk to her-- but she won't know what you're thinking about unless you choose to tell her." He paused and laughed again. "Well, not more so than any other mother, I guess."

I nodded. He had a point. "Can . . . can I learn how to change shape too?"

"I believe so."

There was something about the way he said that . . . "Dad, why didn't you and Mom tell me the truth? Why didn't I know who we really are?"

"That's a very long story, son."

"We've got all night, Dad."

"True." Dad paused. "Very well. You have a right to know everything. We'll need to run some tests-- while we're doing that, I'll tell you the story of our people. Change back to your human self. We've got to go outside."

"Where are we going?" I was surprised at how easily I was able to resume my human shape this time. The _chrisat _had changed too-- now I was wearing sneakers, jeans, and a blue t-shirt.

"We're going back to the ship. I'm going to show you where we came from."


	6. Chapter 6

"It was called Tarnax IV on the astronomical navigation charts, but everyone of our people-- even those who were not born there-- called it Homeworld."

Dad and I were sitting in the space ship that had taken my parents to Earth. We were in what Dad called the communications module. In front of us was a three dimensional holographic display of a world that was no bigger than basketball. Even so, I could see incredible details-- ships arriving and departing, massive orbiting fortresses, and huge cities that seemed to completely dominate the landscape.

"It's--" I could not find the words to describe it. Even in miniature, it was breathtaking. I wasn't sure exactly what I felt about it.

"It is destroyed," Dad said, and there was an uncharacteristic melancholy tone to his voice.

"Destroyed? Is that why we came here?"

"No. Your mother and I came to Earth years before Homeworld was destroyed. You were already twelve when it happened."

"What happened?"

"Galactus happened." Dad's arm turned into a purple tentacle and he touched a plate on the control panel beside my face.

A moon appeared over Homeworld. A moon that was nearly as large as Homeworld itself.

Descending on a ray of light was the figure of a man-- a giant man over a hundred feet tall. A man in blue and purple armor.

"Galactus. The Devourer of Worlds," Dad said, and he turned his eyes away from the display.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

Orbiting platforms turned their weapons towards Homeworld and began blasting at Galactus with an unholy barrage of energy. Buildings nearby him began to melt and the very air seemed to catch fire.

Galactus paid no heed.

Instead, he began to shrink-- no, not shrink . . . _melt _into the crust of the Skrull Homeworld.

When he had disappeared completely, the ground where he had descended turned molten. Like a cancer, the magma grew-- and within the space of a heartbeat the world of my ancestors was . . . gone. Only a mass of molten fire remained.

And even as I watched, the magma and plasma that Homeworld had become seemed to grow dark and gray . . .

Galactus emerged from the core of the dead world aglow with power. He was wreathed in a corona of energy that contained every color I had ever seen . . . and some that I had never dreamed existed.

It was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

The holographic display went dark as Galactus' ship left our world.

"He's real," I muttered, for I remembered seeing news footage of Galactus in New York City. I had always taken him for a mutant or robot or something-- which seemed to be the general public consensus-- but he wasn't. He was really. Gloriously and terribly real.

"He is real," Dad acknowledged. "And pray that you never see his visage again, Peter."

"So . . . are we all that's left? Of the Skrull race?"

Dad paused, and laughed again. "Oh no. The Skrull race has had the ability to travel through hyperspace for almost two million years. We have almost a thousand colony worlds. Our population is still more than fifty billion. But our home-- the heart and soul of our empire is no more."

"Empire?"

Dad nodded.

"Um, we wouldn't happen to be royalty would we?"

"Why yes, Peter. We are. You are the next Crown Prince. One day you will rule all the Skrulls."

I stared at my father in abject terror.

And then he laughed.

"Got you!" his laughter was a bit different as a Skrull-- a bit shriller-- but still the laughter of my father.

"Gee thanks, Dad. I just about found out if Skrulls can have heart attacks."

"I'm sorry, son. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. You are not royalty-- but your mother is part of the noble class."

I stared at him. "Come again? Mom's a Princess?"

"Not exactly." He thought for a moment. "Your maternal grandfather was a _treschat._That would translate in Earth terms to 'baron'-- a very minor noble position."

"He was a _treschat_?"

"He was on Homeworld along with nearly every other member of your mother's family."

"What about you?"

"I'm strictly upper middle class, Peter." Dad smiled. "If your mother had been in the line of succession, we could not have gotten married."

"There's so much more I need to know, Dad." I wondered if now was the time to tell him about Roni Crandall-- but something within me decided to keep that secret.

"I know, son. Unfortunately, I don't think we're going to be able to cover everything tonight. I still need to run some tests on you-- and provide you some instruction on your shape shifting abilities."

"That definitely sounds like a plan," I agreed.

"I'm afraid that I'm not a scientist-- your mother is the biologist in the family-- but I can run a few simple tests. Your mother will have to analyze the results and come up with the rest."

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this before? Why did you wait until today to let me know what I truly was?"

For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but finally he did.

"Son, there is much about our culture that you do not yet understand. I will try my best to explain it to you, but it will be hard."

"I'm willing to try, Dad."

"Skrulls are not like humans, Peter. We are not mammals-- we are not reptiles or birds, either, but we are not very biologically similar to humans. One of the ways that we are different is in the way we give birth."

"Dad, we had the birds and the bees discussion--"

"Skrulls do not give birth to their young like humans, Peter. We-- the females lay eggs."

"So I was hatched?"

"No."

Dad looked away for a moment. "Peter, during the time your mother was pregnant with you, she came down with an infection-- it's not serious, normally-- the equivalent of chicken pox for a human child, actually. However, the side effect of this illness is that the infected Skrull is trapped in the shape it is wearing at the time of infection until the sickness passes.

"Peter, you were born while your mother was infected. You did not come from an egg. You were born live-- as a human being.

"And until this morning, neither your mother or I ever thought you would be able to change shape."

I digested what Dad said. "I see," I said in a distant voice that I did not recognize as my own. "What you're saying is that not only am I an alien, I'm also an alien freak."

And to that, Dad had no reply . . .


	7. Chapter 7

Dad and I didn't discuss the whole "alien freak" thing after my little declaration. In retrospect, I realize that I might have been able to avoid a lot of other problems if I had just talked to him about it-- but I couldn't. He couldn't. It hurt too much.

Instead, Dad had me change between human and Skrull back and forth for the better part of an hour. He took blood and tissue samples. He even had me breathe into a tube in my different bodies.

By the end of that hour, I felt I had total control over my ability to shift between my two bodies. I felt . . . _different_. Not in a bad way, mind you; just different.

I was aware of my body in a way that I had never thought possible before. I felt like I knew my every cell by its first name, so to speak. I felt like I had stuck a wet finger in an electric socket-- but in a _good _way.

I had never felt so alive.

"Most of this stuff your mother will have to go over, Pete," Dad told me at the end of that hour. "From what I can see, your readouts are within the normal for a Skrull of your age-- maybe even a little bit better."

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"You said you weren't a biologist. Exactly what are you? Why are we here-- on Earth?"

Dad paused. "I'm not sure there's an English word that matches exactly what I am, son. I'm sort of a combination alien anthropologist and market research specialist."

"Come again?"

"The Skrull race has been many things over time, Pete. We've had our more warlike periods-- and I'm sad to say that we're just coming out of such a time now-- but we have always been merchants and traders. Earth has the potential to be a great market for us-- both for exports and imports. My job is to study Earth culture and so help our people understand what the humans would want in trade-- and how to best negotiate with them.

"Your mother is a xenobiologist. She studies plant and animal life on alien worlds to help determine what would be safe to export and import to those worlds."

"Oh." I had a feeling there was more that Dad wasn't telling me. "There are other aliens?"

"Oh, yes!" Dad grinned at me-- he tended to spend most of his time in his human form-- whether it was out of habit or to make me more comfortable I didn't know. "There are many races. Galadorians, Shi'Ar, Xandarians, and of course the _dhrismating _Kree!"

"I don't know what_dhrismating _means, Dad, but I bet that Mom would slap me if I said it in her presence. What is it about the Kree you dislike so much?"

Dad growled. "It's a long story, son. Let's just say that the Kree and Skrull Empires have not been friends in a long time." He shrugged. "The Kree are the only known race who can actually sense a Skrull's true nature without using technological means."

"Oh really? How do they do that?"

"Ask your mother. I think it's a kind of psionic dissonance-- they get a kind of mental feedback from our thoughts."

"Oh. Like a headache or something?"

"I believe so. It's been a long time since I saw a Kree. They tend to wear dampening devices when they know they're going to be around us-- the one thing that we ever managed to sell them before we went to war, actually."

Hmm. Food for thought.

"But that's enough talking about other races. I think it's time for you to try a different kind of change."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got human and Skrull down pat. Let's see if you can become something else."

"Like what?"

"Think of something. Real or imaginary. Probably be best to keep it as human or animal, though. We're going to have to train you in the basics. But go ahead. Come up with something. Anything."

"Okay."

So I thought.

I thought about something that Dad and I used to watch on TV back when I was really little. Mom never watched any of those old movies with us-- it had always been a "guy" thing. I wanted that closeness again-- I wanted to reassure Dad-- and myself-- that no matter what, he was still my father.

So I changed.

Dad looked at the eight-foot tall reptile I had become. "Impressive. You've even got the back plates right. Do you feel like destroying Tokyo now?"

I chuckled-- surprised that I could still do so and waved my tail around-- somewhat surprised that I could actually control that alien appendage. "This feels-- neat and weird at the same time."

"Try to breathe fire."

"What?"

"Go ahead. Try to breathe fire-- not at me, obviously, but go ahead."

I opened my mouth and exhaled-- but nothing but air came out.

Dad chuckled.

Nettled, I returned to human form. "You knew I wouldn't be able to do it."

"Exactly. It was a lesson."

"So teach me, Yoda. What have I learned?"

"As a Skrull, you have a great power-- there are many things we can do. However, like all things, this power has limits. You couldn't breathe fire as King of the Monsters because you had no idea of the kind of biology that such a creature would need."

"So I have to get a degree in biology to transform into the really neat shapes?"

"Well, it would help . . . but it's not absolutely necessary." Dad became a creature that I had never seen before. It looked like a cross between a crocodile and a horse. "In English, this creature would be called a draco-dog. I saw it in the Emperor's Zoo when I was a little boy." Dad opened his jaws-- and exhaled a brief burst of yellow fire. "I don't know anything consciously about its biology, but because I saw it I can duplicate it.

"That's your first lesson, Pete. You can duplicate anything you've ever seen without having to worry about how its internal organs work. You can become a dog and walk on four legs without having to think about it or become a pigeon and fly like a bird. You can also take the shape of anything you can imagine-- but you cannot become what has never existed. You can't breathe fire like our movie friend or become a flying flaming turtle like his rival because such creatures do not exist and therefore cannot be duplicated."

Dad returned to human shape. "Another important lesson is mass. As a Skrull, you _can_alter your mass-- becoming either more or less massive. The extent to which you can do this is going to be determined by innate ability and practice. The more you alter your mass, though, the harder it will be for you to maintain that shape."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Also, the more you shift shape-- and the greater the difference between each shape that you assume-- the more exhausted you will become."

I mulled this over. "So if I turn myself big and green can I toss tanks around like the Hulk?"

Dad grinned. "No. He is a mutate-- not a normal human being. An extra-dimensional biological process that is beyond our ability to emulate powers his strength. The same goes for most of the so-called super heroes, unfortunately."

"Oh."

"But there are many other shapes you can assume that are much more powerful than a human or Skrull. Here's one of my favorites-- a Spikoid."

The thing that Dad became was nine foot tall, granite-gray, and covered with black spikes that jutted from every conceivable surface.

"Um, neat."

The Spikoid shrugged and became Dad again. He checked his watch. "I think we'd better call it a night, son. Your mother will be waiting for us. Tomorrow, she'll go over your tests and then talk to you."

I nodded. I had a feeling that Mom's heart to heart wasn't going to be nearly as much fun as Dad's had been, but I knew that it was something that I had to do . . .

And I also knew that I would have to talk to Roni . . . and find out exactly what she wanted . . . and what I would have to do about it . . .


	8. Chapter 8

We left the ship in its hidden location (if I told you where it wouldn't be hidden any longer would it?) and made it back home a little bit after midnight. I was still feeling hyper from my first controlled shape shifting, but Dad told me I should be sure to get a good night's sleep.

"You won't realize how tired you are until tomorrow morning," he told me. "It's a bit like using muscles you never knew you had. It takes a toll on you. You'll feel it sooner or later."

"Yeah, yeah," I told him. "I hear you."

Dad chuckled. "Don't believe me, then. But don't come crying to me tomorrow when your aches have aches."

I shrugged. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for telling me everything."

He nodded. "There's still more to tell, Pete. You've got a lot to learn-- both about your abilities and your heritage. Remember-- along with your new abilities there are still limitations. You have to be careful-- not just for your sake, but also for your mother's and mine."

I stared at him.

"What do you think would happen if the authorities found out that we were here?" Dad asked me.

I thought about it. "Um, something not good, I'm guessing."

"Given what these humans do to those who are merely mutants, I would say that 'not good' qualifies as an understatement."

"Okay, Dad. I'll be careful."

"You've always been a responsible boy, Pete. I'm counting on you." Dad clasped my shoulder and then went to bed.

Okay, okay.

I know that I should have told him about Roni. It would have been the prudent thing to do. It would have been the responsible thing to do. But I didn't. Why?

Because I was an idiot, that's why.

I had started the day thinking that I was a human being, and wound up discovering that not only was I an alien, but there was also another alien in my high school-- one who didn't seem prone to like me overmuch. And it didn't take a Reed Richards to figure out she was up to no good.

So I didn't tell Dad. I knew that I should have, but I chose not to. I admit it. I was still mad about-- well, everything-- and I was too excited by my own abilities and-- well, I was seventeen.

And given that, you can well understand that there was no way that I was going to stay in my room. I had just had a taste of my new abilities-- it was like being given the keys to the Fantasticar and then being told that you could only go around the block once.

I wanted more.

I wanted for about an hour. The rest of the house was quiet. I walked over to my window and opened it.

As a kid, I had been able to climb down the side of the house using the wooden trestles that supported the vines that grew on this side of the house. After I was about twelve, I'd gotten both too big and too heavy to use that route. Now . . . now was a different story.

I pictured myself younger . . . younger and smaller. I became aware of a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach-- kind of like the feeling you get on a roller coaster as you start to go down-- and opened my eyes.

I didn't appear to be any younger, but I was definitely smaller. I was about one third my regular size-- and felt as buoyant as you do when trying to walk in the shallow end of a swimming pool.

"Okay, so I'm obviously going to have to work on this a bit more," I told myself. I was aware of a-- well for lack of a better word-- _pressure _in the back of my mind. It was slight, but noticeable. Apparently, it was a side effect of the mass and size reduction.

I ran to the window and-- with some difficulty-- climbed out of it. I might not have been the kid I had envisioned myself to be, but the old reflexes came back to me and I was able to quickly descend to the ground.

Once safely on the ground, I decided to try something new.

For the first time, I made a shift without turning back to human or Skrull first. I went straight from my "mini-me" version into the form of a German Shepherd.

A _big _German Shepherd.

The world went black and white when I did this, but that was okay because I found that I had more light to see by. My nose and ears were abruptly much more aware of the world around me, but I found that my enhanced senses didn't distract me if I didn't focus on them.

It felt strange. I was still me-- I wasn't aware of any kind of animalistic urges or instincts-- but I felt completely at home in my altered body. When I began walking, I had no difficulty at all in coordinating my four legs.

I chuckled . . . well it came out as more of a stuttering growl than a chuckle, but that was what I meant to do.

I felt young and strong and invincible. I wanted to run and swim and fly and do anything and everything I could to keep from thinking about the things that had been given-- and taken away from-- me today.

I wasn't human.

I had never been human.

I would never be human.

I was an alien and a freak to my own people.

I was still me . . . but I wasn't.

And given all that, it was only natural that I would run into trouble . . .


	9. Chapter 9

e

Branford wasn't exactly what you would call a hot town. Primarily a farm town, it had certainly seen better times-- the era of the small privately owned farm seemed to be dying-- and it had only one major employer: Roxxon. The big multinational company had opened a research branch in Branford ten years ago-- in fact, it was where my Mom worked. (Dad had to drive almost thirty miles to for his job at a local Public Relations firm in Delta City.) Aside from the Roxxon subsidiary, there were a couple of fast food places, a general store, a gas station, and a video joint.

All in all, not what you'd call a happening 'burg.

In dog form, I ran clear to the center of town. At this time of night, there generally wasn't much in the way of traffic or pedestrians-- oh, heck. There wasn't _any _traffic.

Normally.

Tonight, however, was different.

The car that was parked in the town square was like nothing I had ever seen. I mean, it was nondescript, but didn't look exactly like any make or models I had ever seen. There was no recognizable names or symbols on it.

Three men got out of the car. They were all dressed in black business suits. And even though it was past midnight, each of them wore sunglasses.

I stopped by the fountain and began lapping up some water. I kept my doggy eyes on our late night tourists, but I was careful to stay as far away as possible. Some innate sense of caution told me that getting too close to them was not a good idea . . . but another part of me thought that listening in on these mysterious strangers might be beneficial to my health.

So I did.

And you know what? Dogs have _very _good hearing . . .

At first, they said nothing. They merely stood beside their car and smoked cigarettes-- odd cigarettes. Even from where I was, I could tell there was something odd about those cigarettes-- the smell was unlike anything I had ever encountered before. It was odd . . . and definitely not tobacco.

Finally, one of them said something that made my ears stand up . . . well, they would have stood up if they hadn't already been the ears of a German shepherd. "Hala! I am sick of this waiting!"

One of them said something back to the first speaker. I did not understand the language, but I recognized it. I was positive that it was the first language that Roni had used on me back in the restroom.

"Speak the tongue of this land, fool," the first speaker said. "You never know who might be listening. We must not let anyone discover who we truly are. Do not use our true tongue until we are safely away."

The second speaker growled, but said nothing.

"Where is she?" the first speaker said again, glancing at his watch. "We cannot tarry here long."

"I am here, Captain."

I'll give you three guesses who stepped out of the shadows. Hint: she didn't like me very much.

"Ro'Ni," the one she called captain said with a nod of his head. "I am pleased you were able to make it."

"I will not fail the Supremor," Roni Crandall said as she returned the captain's bow. "It is here."

"You are sure?"

"Yes." Roni looked absolutely certain. "We merely have to retrieve it."

"We could do it tonight," the second speaker said. His English was harsh and accented, but understandable. "There are more than enough of us. These humans would be no match for us!"

"I recommend caution," Roni said. She paused. "There is at least one Skrull here. He attends the local secondary school."

"Skrull!" the first speaker said, making the word into an obscenity. "They must not get it! It could do irreparable damage to the Empire!"

"They will not get it!" Roni said. "This I swear!"

"What do you recommend, Ro'Ni?" the captain asked.

"One can often do more than many-- and more quietly too. Give me leave and I will get it on my own-- without any of the humans being any wiser."

"And when will you do this?"

"Soon. Tomorrow night or the night after that. The one who acts as my mother in this place has taken a job with the human plant. She will be able to provide me with plans of the complex. I will retrieve it-- and leave a harmless duplicate in its place. By the time the humans learn of it, we will be long gone."

The captain considered. "There are advantages to your plan, Ro'Ni. We cannot wait long-- but to go in as the lieutenant suggests will bring attention to us-- the Skrulls will learn of it and the humans' champions as well. We are not what we once were-- thanks in part to the machinations of your sire-- and we must act with caution where once we might have proceeded boldly."

Roni winced when the captain mentioned her father, but said nothing.

The captain abruptly made a decision. "Private, bring me the package."

"Yes, captain," the third man said. He opened the trunk of the car and brought out a small chest. Well, "small" might have been an understatement-- it wasn't exactly a steamer trunk, but it was smaller than a suitcase in length though it was a good two feet high. Even so, the private carried it with no noticeable sign of strain.

"Ro'Ni, daughter of Ronan," the captain said as he took the chest. "Within is your inheritance-- all that your father has left you-- aside from a dishonored name. Claim your Weapon-- and your honor!"

Roni touched the top of the chest, and it opened of its own accord. She reached into it and pulled out what looked like a hand-sized sledgehammer. One end was flat, the other was tapered somewhat like a claw hammer. The head of the mallet looked to be silver; the handle was an obsidian blackness that twinkled with what looked like tiny stars-- as though she were holding a piece of space itself.

Roni held the hammer over her head.

"I am Ro'Ni!" she cried. "Daughter of Ronan the Accuser! And I will restore all that he has lost!"

The silver head of the hammer flashed.

When the light burst cleared, Roni was clad in futuristic green armor. She saluted the captain again with her free hand and rose into the air. When she reached about fifteen feet, she became translucent and then faded away completely.

"That was foolish, captain," the lieutenant said as he took another draw on his cigarette.

"No. The name of Ronan the Accuser still has a certain weight in the Empire. If his daughter succeeds in her venture, we will have earned the gratitude of his supporters-- which will further my own ambitions."

"And if she should fail?"

"If she fails, then she will be naught but the half-breed daughter of a fallen hero-- and the blame will be hers alone. What she seeks to retrieve does pose a threat to the Empire, but there are always alternatives to its recovery we can employ at need."

"Such as?"

"We destroy it."

"But, captain-- that could destroy this entire planet's biosphere!"

"And that would be just such a shame, wouldn't it?" the captain said with a smile as he walked back to the car.

And then I was alone with only the stars for company.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up the next morning safe and sound in bed.

I glanced down at my hands. Pink. Normal. "Hey, could it all have been a dream?"

I got up and walked into the bathroom-- and saw that I still had the face and ears of a Skrull. I was just pink.

"Or maybe not."

I shrugged, and turned green. "Okay. May as well shower now." I took my clothes off-- well, I tried to take them off anyway. "Um, heck. What's going on here? Why is my shirt turning into tar every time I try to take it off?"

And then I remembered: my clothes were alive.

"Okay. This is something that Dad definitely didn't tell me. Um, would you mind very much if I took you off now? I really do need to shower. Please?"

This time, my clothes were solid and I was able to remove them.

I quickly ducked into the shower.

Swell. I had to be the only teenager alive who was going to have to cajole his clothing into being taken off . . . well, the only teenager on Earth who had that problem, anyway….

I shifted back to human form before I put my clothes back on . . . and noticed that I seemed to be a little more buffed than I remembered. I still wasn't exactly Captain America, but I seemed to be in better shape than I had been two days ago. Kind of a nice side effect to the whole shape shifting business, I decided.

I put the _chrisat_back on and decided on what to wear. Rather, I decided what the c_hrisat _was going to look like. I finally decided on just a variation of what I was wearing the day before with just a change in the color of the shirt to a darker blue. I'd never been a fashion plate and I didn't intend to start now.

"Peter! Breakfast is ready!"

I glanced in the mirror one more time to make sure my human face was on, and headed out of my bedroom.

"Your father had to leave early," Mom told me as she served me some pancakes. "I'm taking the day off from work-- to go over your test results. I should have them fully analyzed by the time you get home from school tonight."

"Great." I paused. In some ways, I blamed Mom for everything more than Dad-- it wasn't fair, I know, but I couldn't help myself. "Mom?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"How were you able to change me back to normal yesterday?"

"That isn't normal for you, Peter. You're not human, you know."

"You know what I mean."

She sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I just never thought this day would come-- and it's affecting me differently than I thought. I've never heard of a Skrull developing his abilities so late in life-- and I'm worried about you."

It hadn't occurred to me that there might be danger in what I had become, but I decided to put it out of my mind. I had to have faith in Mom and her ability to help me if I needed help. "It's just so weird, Mom-- you think you're one thing and then you find out you're not. It's going to take me some time to get used to the fact that I'm not human, that's all--"

"Peter, your lack of humanity doesn't make you any less a person. Skrulls aren't really that different in behavior from humans-- we laugh, we love, we hate-- we're not _monsters._"

"I know. It's just-- _weird._"

"I can't imagine what it's like to be you, Peter. When you were born-- we thought you would never be able to change shape. I convinced your father that it was more important that you feel normal than it was to expose you to your heritage. Maybe I was wrong in that. I don't know. I just wanted to spare you from being hurt--"

"Hurt?"

Mom took a bite from one of her pancakes. "In some ways, Skrulls can be a rather cruel race, Peter. There have been Skrulls who lack our ability to change shape-- throwbacks to a time before we were what we have become-- and they are treated as second class citizens." She paused. "They are considered _defective."_

"Freaks." I nodded. "I get it."

Mom winced. "I don't like that word, Peter."

"Sorry. You haven't answered my question, Mom. How were you able to make me change?"

"Biology. Skrulls children are not normally able to consciously shift shape on their own until they are about five Terran years old. In prehistoric times, Skrull mothers needed to be able to shift shape to escape wild animals or enemy tribes." She paused. "Peter, your father told you that our race was somewhat reptilian in nature, didn't he?"

"He said that we come from eggs."

"Exactly. Did it occur to you to wonder why a race of psuedo-reptiles would have females with breasts?"

"Um, no. And I'm not sure I really wanna know, Mom."

Mom smiled. "The breast milk of a human female provides its offspring with antibodies that help it live to maturity as well as nutrients required for growth. The breast milk of a Skrull female helps her establish a psychic link with her offspring-- a bond that allows the female to trigger the infant's shape shifting abilities before the child is able to control them itself."

"So you can control my power to change shape?"

"I have to be in physical contact, and it's an ability that diminishes with time. When you are a fully mature Skrull-- which should be a matter of months-- I won't be able to influence you at all."

"Well that explains it-- and in more detail than I really would have liked to hear."

Mom smiled. "You asked."

"Yeah, I did."

"What exactly has your father told you about your ability to change shape?"

I went over the various things that Dad had taught me.

Mom nodded. "He seems to have gone over the basics. Your father and I will do our best, but you may need more training than we can give you. We'll have to see what can be arranged."

"Training?"

She nodded. "There are Skrulls who are experts in the art of shape shifting-- who tutor children." She paused, and there was something about her expression that made me both nervous and sad. "They will have a great interest in you."

"I'm not sure I like the way you said that, Mom."

"The Skrull culture is different than this one, Peter. You will have to adjust to your heritage-- as they will have to adjust to you."

"I suppose." I thought for a moment. "Mom? I need to talk to you and Dad tonight. It's about something important. Can we do that? Can we talk?"

"We can always talk, Peter."

That was certainly news to me-- Mom had never exactly been Ms. Open Communication before-- but I wasn't about to say anything to her about that now. I had other things on my mind now.

Mainly, Roni. I didn't know what she would be up to at Roxxon, but I had a feeling that it wouldn't be something I would want her to have. I was going to have to talk to Mom and Dad about it-- but I wasn't going to talk just to Mom. I needed Dad there-- I knew that he would listen.

"Um, I gotta go to school now, Mom. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Have a nice day, Peter."

I nodded and turned to leave only to hear her say, "Peter?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I am not human, but I am still your mother. And I love you-- just as much as your father does."

"Thanks, Mom."

There seemed to be nothing else to say. Mom and I had never really been the type to hug or excessively display emotion, so I did the only thing I could then:

I left.


	11. Chapter 11

When I made it to school, B.W. and Vic were sitting at our usual table in the commons. B.W. was showing Vic some papers, and he was shaking his head. He waved to me when he saw me.

"Morning, Pete."

"Vic. B.W. Whatcha looking at?"

B.W. reflexively pushed her glasses back in place. "You remember when I told you I thought that Roni uttered the word 'Skrull'?"

"Um, yeah."

"I did a search on the internet. Look at what I found." She handed me one of the pages.

FANTASTIC FOUR IMPERSONATED BY ALIENS? The headline of the Daily Bugle proclaimed.

I skimmed the article. It had happened over ten years ago-- apparently, shortly after the Fantastic Four had first gone public, they had mysteriously committed a series of crimes ranging from petty larceny to outright public endangerment. Escaping from government custody, they had eventually cleared their names. The true criminals had been agents of a "foreign power" who had been bent on destroying the FF as a prelude to invasion.

That was a bit of a stretch, but it was possible. However, the headline related to an unnamed policeman's claim that the FF had actually been impersonated by four shape shifting aliens called "Skrulls."

"Oh yeah, B.W.," Vic said. "Everyone knows that the Daily Bugle is a bastion of journalistic integrity where super heroes are concerned."

"There's more!" B.W. said. "Look at this guy!"

She showed me a picture of Spider-Man and some red and black clad super heroine fighting another Skrull-- his arms were orange and rocky like the Thing's, and his lower half was on fire like the Human Torch. The caption identified him as the "Super Skrull."

"There's other stories-- about a conflict between the Skrulls and another alien race called the Kree that's involved the Avengers more than once. I found dozens of stories posted on newsgroups and web pages."

I shrugged. "I don't know, B.W. What's the point?"

B.W. lowered her voice. "I think Roni might be one of them."

"An alien?" Vic chuckled. "Look, I admit that Roni's what you'd call a healthy girl-- I told B.W. about what I saw, Pete-- but she's no more an alien than-- than Pete is!"

I smiled. "Yeah, Vic's right, B.W."

Vic blinked. "I am?"

B.W. looked at me. "He is?"

I bit my lip. I'd never been comfortable with lying. On the other hand, this wasn't just my secret. "Look, what on earth would aliens want in this one horse town? New York I could understand. Washington D.C. is a given. But what on Earth would aliens want here?"

B.W. looked at me. "Roxxon."

"What about Roxxon?"

B.W. lowered her voice. "I've been doing a little snooping--"

I lowered my voice. "B.W., the term is 'hacking.' And it's kind of illegal the last I heard. If anyone finds out you've been poking around in the files of an international corporation--"

"They won't," she said with annoying confidence. "And anyway, I read there they have some kind of advanced technology they've been studying--"

"Um, I saw that movie, B.W.," Vic said. "I'll be back!" he said in a thick accent.

B.W. glared at him.

I grinned myself. "Um, B.W., I think you've got to admit you've got pretty circumstantial evidence here. Roni shows up and utters-- maybe-- the word Skrull and you think she's an alien? Pretty flimsy, don't you think?"

B.W. sighed. "I know that it's a rather far-fetched hypothesis, but something about our new classmate strikes me as being less than terrestrial."

"Huh?" Vic asked.

"She said that Roni doesn't seem very much like an earthling," I translated. I suddenly found myself wondering if Skrulls actually used that phrase. Never cared for it, myself . . .

"Peter, I don't know what you did to antagonize Roni, but be careful around her. My woman's intuition tells me that she harbors a strong antipathy towards you."

Vic looked at me expectantly.

"She thinks that Roni doesn't like me very much."

Vic chuckled. "I kind of got that impression when she threw you around the bathroom, Pete."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I have that effect on women."

B.W. snorted.

"What did I say?" I asked her plaintively.

B.W. sighed. "Peter, must you engage in such juvenile tendencies?"

"Yeah, well, I am a juvenile, B.W. So are you. You need to loosen up. Have a little fun. Use some two syllable words for a change."

B.W. looked at me. "I am what I am, Peter."

I squeezed her hand. "I know you are, B.W. And we wouldn't want you any other way, would we, Vic?"

Vic started. "What did you say?"

"What are you looking at?" I asked and then turned. "Oh."

Roni was standing alone in the commons. Even as I watched, one of the jocks started to approach her, but backed away as soon as she glanced at him.

"She's been watching us-- well, you, Pete-- since she got here."

I nodded. "I'll catch you guys in class." I got up.

"Where are you going?" Vic asked me.

"I'm going to have a little talk with Ms. Crandall."

"I'll go with you," B.W. offered.

"Thanks, but I need to do this alone."

She looked at me with concern in her brown eyes. "Be careful."

"Always am."

I walked over to Roni and nodded.

She nodded back.

"You and I are going to have a talk," I told her.

"And why should I do that, Skrull?"

"Because I have some information that might interest you . . . Kree."


	12. Chapter 12

Roni stared at me for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Walk with me," she finally said.

"Sure. Long as it's not too far. It's almost time for class to start."

She stared at me. "Why would you care about that?"

"Because history's one of my best subjects. I'd like to get an 'A' in it."

"You're strange, Skrull."

"Look, call me, Pete. Or call me Morgan. But don't call me 'Skrull', okay? Otherwise, I'm going to shout 'Kree' at the top of my lungs."

She nodded. "Morgan."

"Thank you, Crandall." We started walking around the commons, back to the lockers. I noticed the curious looks we were getting, but decided that I couldn't do much about that at the moment.

"Why do you care how you do in this school?" There was something like honest curiosity in her voice.

"Because I want to get into a good college." I paused. "I was born here."

"You were born on this mud ball planet?" Her voice had started to rise, but she swiftly lowered it.

"Yes. Look, I know that our two respective species don't get along-- and I know you have no reason to trust me, but you're being set up."

"Set up?"

"Your leaders will betray you. They plan on using you as a scapegoat. They don't care about you or your honor. They just want to use you to build up their own political standing. You're expendable."

"My leaders would never betray me!" she hissed angrily. "We Kree have honor!"

"Honor, huh? So much honor that you don't care if innocents are killed."

"What do you mean?"

"If you can't get whatever it is you're supposed to get back from Roxxon, your bosses are going to destroy it-- and it'll take out half the planet. At least, that's what they said."

She stared at me. "How would you know?"

"I was there. I listened in." I breathed into her ear. "You look cute in green armor."

She grabbed me by the neck and lifted me off the ground. "Calot of a Skrull-- how dare you!"

It was very painful. I don't think it would have been as painful for a human, but it probably would have been a good deal more fatal. I could feel my neck compressing as though it were made of rubber under her grasp. I knew that I couldn't take much of this, though-- even Skrulls need to breathe.

So I did the only thing I could; I fought back.

I glanced down at my left hand and watched it turn into the head of a sledgehammer. It felt odd-- but maybe that was just oxygen deprivation.

"Let me go!" I gasped-- and struck Roni on the side of the head with my fist.

The sledgehammer fist, that is.

The blow probably would have killed a human being, but Roni Crandall was no more human than I was. It broke her grip and knocked her to the floor-- but it did little more than stun her.

I glanced around. If anyone had seen us--

Unfortunately, someone had.

"Peter?" B.W. said in a whisper as she stared at me … and the sledgehammer that had replaced my left hand.

"B.W., I can explain--" I began.

"She has seen what we are!" Roni Crandall said as she got to her feet. "We cannot allow that. She must be dealt with!"

And she advanced on B.W. McCoy with murder in her eyes …


End file.
